(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

Kaius lounged on a settee, made of finely lacquered wood that was engraved and embossed with solid gold inlay; it was long enough for him to lie at full extension. It was also probably more expensive than the entirety of everything in Three Fields village combined, with cloudy padding that seemed to cradle him from every direction. Blood, green and red both, seeped from his armour to soak into masterfully woven depictions of smithing and craftsmanship, permanently staining the brightly coloured threads.

In any other situation he might have felt mortified. Even if it was the Depths, ruining something that was clearly more expensive that he could fathom was not exactly something he relished. This was, however, one of over a dozen seats of similar quality in the sitting room, the fifth such sitting room they had found. On the first floor. That they had only explored a bare third of.

Artificial creation or not, seeing such extravagance on display irked him. Not insomuch in the quality and price of the furnishings, but in the bloody greed of it all. Even with a full clan, the place would feel empty.

It was a simple, needless, waste in his mind. After growing up in the Arboreal Sea, he could appreciate the desire for expensive comforts, but he simply couldn’t fathom the sheer accumulation of excess. Life was simple on the frontier, you used what you had, to the greatest extent possible. But you didn’t waste it. Nor horde it.

Even if he ever grew as rich as one must be to own such an estate, he truly couldn’t imagine ever owning one. It was opulence to the point of impracticality. What use was a dozen kitchens if you had to walk what felt like a league to eat?

No, he’d much prefer something small and cosy. A couple of seats that cost as much as a village would be more than enough for him.

He sighed, wriggling himself deeper into the embrace of the settee, before he rolled to the side and looked to where Porkchop was splayed out on his back on one of his own.

“How long until you get Persistent Survivor?” Kaius asked.

Porkchop twisted his head, hanging it over the side of his seat to meet his eyes. “It’s been what, a week since you got yours? Not much longer, maybe one or two more.”

“That’s not too bad,” Kaius said as he willingly slid sideways and kicked his blood soaked legs onto the settee to lie on his side. “What do we do to fill the time?”

“More food,” Porkchop responded immediately.

Kaius smiled, snorting a touch in amusement. “Besides that. We’re about to head into the biggest fight of our lives, so while a rest is important for us to be in peak condition, I don’t want to get even a little soft.”

Groaning at his response, Porkchop rolled over to look at him more directly. “Easy, we spend a few hours every day getting used to our bond in more brawls, and then we eat like kings when we get back. You could also always work on your spells, do you have any changes you want to make?”

Humming in thought, Kaius considered his hymns. Honestly, he was barely passable at High Lothian, all things considered. He might be able to tweak the spell some more, but he definitely couldn’t forge new spells whole cloth like his father could.

Which was a damn shame; some sort of fire or acid hymn would have been extremely useful against the ogre.

“I think I should probably stick to my original Arcane Bolt, if I’m being honest.” Kaius said after a moment’s consideration.

“Oh?” Porkchop asked, tilting his head quizzically. It made Kaius smile a little, the comfortable expression on his bond-brothers face completely at odds with fur that was drenched in viscera.

“Yeah, it was complete overkill against the regular depths-born, and even most Champions. With how expensive it was, it was a really bad option.” Kaius replied, thinking back on his first uses of his glyph where his spell had punched clean through a goblin only to carry on and crack the reinforced stone of a manor across the street. “The Guardian, on the other hand, is supposed to be up to twice the layer cap, at least for the first five layers. It could be level forty, and it’s a big motherfucker at that. I want the spell power to do some real damage, even if just to disable a joint.”

“You’d know,” Porkchop said with a shrug. “You’re the spellcaster after all.”

Porkchop rolled off of his plush and richly embroidered seat, drawing Kaius’s eyes away from the fresco set into the ceiling of a warrior crushing an insectile beast with a warhammer. Where Porkchop had been lying, a smear of green and red was permanently soaked into the soft fabrics.

“Come on then, as fun as it is to wreck these couches, the blood in my fur and barding is starting to dry.” Porkchop said, shaking his body and sending half-congealed droplets of blood and shredded goblin meat showering across the room.

Kaius recoiled, twisting his head away, but not fast enough to stop a droplet of congealed blood from flying into his mouth.

He retched, spitting out the irontasting globule that tainted his mouth. “Fucking gross!” he yelled, jumping out of the seat. “That’s it, we’re getting clean.”

He strode out the room, stopping at the wide bay doors that opened up into a long hall lined with paintings and side tables covered in a dizzying array of ornaments. Looking back to Porkchop, he found his bond-brother shooting him a cheeky grin.

“You coming?” He asked, rolling his eyes at Porkchop’s antics, who promptly shot after him.

Unfortunately, getting clean wouldn’t be an immediate thing. They had yet to find one of the wet-rooms that the dwarves liked to use to bathe, and with how large the estate was, it would be a considerable search to find one.

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In the end, much to Kaius’s distaste, it took them the better part of a half hour of walking through halls and peaking through doors before they found one.

….

Kaius stood at the base of the monolithic staircase that was cut into the wall of the fortress-city’s final layer. At its peak he would find his destiny, the goal he and Porkchop had been working towards for over a year now.

They’d ended up staying in the estate for nearly two weeks. Most of that had simply been waiting for Porkchop to get his own Persistent Survivor Honour. There was one surprise there. Porkchop had gained the same First bonus that he had. It seemed that their bond skill stretched to Honours bonuses, a significant boon for their future growth, especially if it worked similarly for Solo requirements.

Still, even once they had had that in hand, they’d taken a few more days.Time to train, to get used to their new bond and awareness of each other.

Time to train, to get used to their new bond and awareness of each other.

Time to drink and feast like they were dead men. Which they might well be.

The last few days had taken on a strange air, as manic as it was sombre. They both knew that what they were about to attempt was insanity. Even with all their advantages -completed legacies, a handful of honours, and additional racial traits- fighting a layer two Guardian without classes was bordering on suicidal.

Not that it would stop them, not now. It wouldn’t be the first time they had done the impossible. No one else who had ended up in the Depths as an unclassed had made it as far as they had, and he knew that they would persevere. They had to, Father’s fate could depend on it.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had spat in death’s face, and it wouldn’t be the last.

He was fully suited up, wrapped in Serelian scale and the rest of his armour, five charges of Arcane Bolt primed and ready, and his pack was slung on his back. He turned to look at Porkchop, who in anticipation of their fight was scratching at the stone pavement that led to the stairs that wound their way up the wall.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Ready to throw myself at death? My only chance of living being the strength of my body and the power of my claws? When have I not been.” Porkchop responded, barely restrained violence thrumming across their bond.

Kaius grinned. He could feel it too. The Bloodsong. The sweet taste of battle that all career delvers felt in some capacity. It resonated in his bones, pulsing with fiery intensity with every beat of his heart.

“Let’s do it then.” he said, taking the first step.

They started to climb, passing engraving after engraving, each one showing what looked to be a historical moment for the city. Dwarves exploring the deep darkness of caves that networked through the earth’s depths. Finding…something. Some sort of crystal. News being returned to the surface, and a greater team returning. A cavern being widened, and a town being founded.

It was a fascinating thing to watch, and probably his favourite part of the dwarven city. Each one of the city’s walls seemed to have their own story, told in the art of masters on a scale so large it was almost unfathomable.

As they ascended to meet their destiny, Kaius turned towards Porkchop and went over their final plan.

“I’ve got the seven rejuvenation tonics and the rage tonic in my pouch, you still think you’ll be okay to catch one if I need to toss it to you?” he asked.

Porkchop rolled his eyes. “Kaius, we practised throwing around that damned bottle for days, I’m positive it will be fine.”

Kaius grunted. He still wasn’t perfectly comfortable with holding onto their entire supply of the valuable healing elixirs, but they had very little other option. Porkchop had no hands, and there was sweet fuck all they could do about that little anatomical detail. At least for now. He had heard of artefacts that allowed you to imbibe a tonic from an internal reservoir, but whatever potential presence that had been influencing their depths rewards hadn’t deigned to grant them one.

The other potions wouldn’t be an issue. They planned on splitting them between them and downing them to the last drop before they entered the arena. It would be harsh, and the sheer amount of magical energy from so many brews would no doubt be hard on their bodies. It was still better than going without, especially when facing what would no doubt be a foe that could kill them in a single solid hit.

It was about the height of what they could do to influence the fight in their favour. He’d wanted to see if they could inscribe some sort of binding formation like they had with the hobgoblin champion, but Porkchop had refused. Vehemently.

Too much of a risk, he’d said. Slaying the Guardian as unclassed would be a feat worthy of bardsong, and by that measure it would have an incredible influence on the quality and type of his class, and Porkchop’s bloodline awakening. Approaching it like a traditional runewright would have far too great of a risk of bending his class in that direction.

He still thought it would be worth it. Even a Legendary class wouldn’t be worth it if it led to one of their deaths.

Still, he had acquiesced in the end. He knew if he tried Porkchop would just ruin the formation before he could finish it anyway. At least, that’s what he had promised.

After what felt like an age of leg-burning climbing, they reached the peak. Much like every other district entrance, this one was barred by a shattered metal door of titanic proportions. It was even more ostentatious than the inlayed gate at the start of the noble district below, made of what looked to be solid silver studded in green and yellow gems, some great force had torn much of the metal like tissue.

Shards of the precious material were scattered across the final stairs, and for a good forty strides through the portal.

Kaius dropped his pack, slinging it up against the wall so that there was no chance of the everpresent cavern wind blowing it off the sheer drop to his right.

He pressed himself close to the stone, dropping into a crouch as he felt Explorer’s Toolkit wrap him in its embrace. “Stay here, i’m just going to take a quick peek before we get started.” he whispered, Porkchop giving him a curt nod in response.

Heart thumping away in his chest, Kaius felt his mouth creep up at the edges. He felt the icy claws of stress and dread sinking into his spine, the cold chill of fear that rested on his shoulders and settled in his chest - prickling his skin. Yet more than that, he felt alive. The heat of his singing blood kept the gloom at bay, leaving only a thrumming anticipation in its wake.

This was it. The final battle. The one he had bled and screamed for, pushing himself harder than anyone had before to scrape and claw at every advantage he could.